


square one

by imaginedandreal



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Reunions, Second Chances, Short One Shot, inner monologue, reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:51:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: At least it was some sort of life. At least, some resemblance of it.Scott's thoughts and feelings before his and Tessa's collaboration with Heather and Guillaume.





	square one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Killthemalldaenerys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killthemalldaenerys/gifts), [Fanforever15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanforever15/gifts), [echoesofstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoesofstardust/gifts).



> I thought it would be fun to try my hand too at writing Scott's POV about the post-December 2018 stuff. This is more of like when you sniff coffee to cleanse your sense of smell after inhaling perfume, than an Actual Fic, but I just wanted to share it.
> 
> To Killthemalldaenerys and Fanforever15 - this one is for you, as well as anyone else who chooses to read my things. We may not know each other, but your comments always bring the biggest smile to my face, and inspire me again and again.
> 
> To echoesofstardust: you’re an absolute sweetheart of a commenter and your own fics are a joy to discover. This one’s for you as well, especially after the compliment you just gave me in the comments😊

His life was divided into neat square pieces. It was easier that way. That way he knew how many steps, twizzles, breaths separated him from the next gray square. He had time, like this, to give himself a running start, with no need to hold his breath. Everything was clear, concise, calculated. Solid ground remained under every high jump, and was there to catch him after every clean landing. 

Gray squares.

Morning, day, evening…

Florida, beach, Crossfit…

Breakfast, lunch, dinner…

FaceTime, Skype, texts...

Danny, Mom, Jackie…

Calmness, reflection, self-control…

Only the night was black. It was black since December. There was a time in the past when it would be colorful, white, sleepless, drunken, cold, burning, all-consuming. The night got tired of twisting around, like a kaleidoscope, like he did in his sheets. It submitted to the flat grayness.

No, the night did not bleach itself of the myriad of shades, though it tried. It simply hid under the black veil. It covered his frustration, so it wouldn’t haunt him, so it would stop making him fall out of step, so it would not interfere with his life. 

At least it was some sort of life. At least, some resemblance of it.

Gray squares. Black night. 

Everything changed. No, not even like that: he passionately ached and yearned for those changes. The circumstances that brought those changes on were serious, but they weren’t devastating, all things considered. The most important news was that Sam and Heather and Guillaume wanted to collaborate with him. With _them._ Even now, he realized that people still meant _her_ too when speaking about him, and vice versa. In spite of it all. 

The handful of his family that still communicated with him consistently and, of course, Jackie, didn’t let him dwell on those thoughts too much, but he hardly cared. He was going to wait for it. His lack of sharing about it with anyone else did not mess up the new unfailing order of his gray daily life. The anticipation simply added a few more figures, more squares, more jumps. Well, then...That might as well be interesting, he thought. 

There was a caveat to those pleasant changes. This situation required the presence of a certain person. That same person, yes, because of whom he had divided his life into gray squares. The person that had broken up his colorful past life - not that he could blame her too much. Because of whom he’d covered up his night in a black blanket - no thinking, no remembering.

Just now, he made an effort of not thinking. Although, why call it an effort? He just wasn’t thinking about it. He’d trained himself well, since as soon as he resolved not to think, he drowned in memories.

He got good at it.

Sometimes he was interrupted in his coddling of this carefully-cultivated forgetfulness, but he learned to avoid the sharp edges without nicking himself.

“Leave me alone, DannyMomJackieSam.”

So what if it’s _her_ …

Calmness, reflection, self-control…

Gray evening. Black night. Gray morning.

Montreal, dance studio, barre room…

No thinking, no waiting, no remembering.

His heart isn’t thudding in agitation.

His heart isn’t thudding _at all_ …

He’s not thinking, not waiting, not remembering.

He’s not paying attention to the black cover that began to slip off. That’s okay. These jitters are just from the shift in surroundings and the new activity. From the rapidly oncoming changes.

Just that, and nothing else.

“Hi, Heather…” 

“Hi, Guillaume…”

“Hi, Sam. No, we’re just waiting for -” 

Does he really have to say who?

Waiting…

A light annoyance from Sam’s sneaky, taunting glances and words full of double meaning, regarding _that_ person.

A light but discernible burst of pride from hearing Heather’s and Guillaume’s compliments and praise in the direction of _that_ person...

A light dizziness from lack of oxygen, suddenly not supplied as consistently by his strangely nervous heart. That wasn’t in the plan!

Deep breaths, Moir! Inhale and exhale, no matter that you can’t sync it with anyone!

That’s the whole point…

Only with her.

So what if the door is about to open, and _she’s_ about to walk in.

So what…

“Hi, guys! It’s so good to see you all!”

...She?

No thinking, waiting, or remembering?

Uh-huh.

You thought you’d gotten the hang of that?

Well, then.

Here’s your last challenge.

She?

His defense weakened under the onslaught of feeling.

He squinted his still hardly believing eyes, to the beat of his yearning heart, beginning to stir under the covers of the dark night.

She…

He ignited with the memories; his lips sparked a smile, his eyes - a flicker.

He’d pulled that goddamn black blanket right off!

She!

He stepped towards the indifferently gray edge. Placed his foot onto the sunlit path. Stretched out a colorful carpet towards her, who was so close. Still so real, so near him, so right there…

Think.

Remember.

Burn.

She…

Yes, Moir, it’s her.

Your Tessa.

Yours!

Goodbye, gray and even squares. A new life asks for a different pattern.


End file.
